


Her Name, My Devotion

by QueenofEden



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Collars, Corsetry, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Play, Established Relationship, F/F, First Time Topping, Grooming, Magic, Mommy Kink, Nipple Clamps, Pet Play, Sub Nadia, Switching, Vaginal Fingering, Wives in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:27:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26460382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenofEden/pseuds/QueenofEden
Summary: “It is bad form, to expect something of you that I would not be willing to undergo myself. I fear I have been woefully remiss in my application of such practices as of late.”--Nadia and her wife, Laurel, try something a little different for a change.
Relationships: Apprentice/Nadia (The Arcana)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 62





	Her Name, My Devotion

**Author's Note:**

> honestly this just started as a quick fill for a prompt i just happened to see on tumblr, and somehow spiraled wildly out of control. now over a month later, here we fucking are i guess. welcome to the fic i never actually thought i would write, the working title of which was '[hamilton voice] okay, so we're doing this?' because that's pretty much the energy i had from day one
> 
> thank u to my lovely becky for your suggestions and encouragement, to claire and morgan for being my shoulder devils, and to my beautiful girlfriend tessa for beta'ing and providing of kind words and praise to fuel my ego

"You're certain? I mean, really, truly certain about this?"

Nadia smiles, fingers trailing over the jut of Laurel's cheekbone, down past her lips to linger over the slight frown she finds there. "I trust you."

Laurel huffs, staring down at the collar and lead in her hands. Fine Venterrian leather, soft and supple as a second skin. Her own throat almost aches to have it fitted around her, to feel the tug of the leash with Nadia on the other end. She blinks away the thoughts, shivering, steeling herself. It was not Nadia on the other end of her leash. The lead belonged to _her_ , the collar waiting to be placed around a neck that had never seen such a decoration.

“It isn’t about trust,” Laurel breathes, tries to make her voice firm already and fails.

“Of course it is, my darling.” Nadia is ever patient, ever comforting. Laurel’s bulwark even as her stomach churns with a nervous gale. “It is bad form, to expect something of you that I would not be willing to undergo myself. I fear I have been woefully remiss in my application of such practices as of late.”

Laurel squirms in place. “You know I don’t mind, I wouldn’t —-” Her eyes shift off to the side, unable to meet Nadia’s gaze. It isn’t a lie, she _wouldn’t_ have minded, would never have _asked_ Nadia for anything this. She had only posed as many questions as she had out of… call it incorrigible curiosity? It had been Nadia, practical to a fault, who had decided that perhaps, even after a more than thorough explanation, that a _demonstration_ would be in order. When Laurel had nodded so wholeheartedly, she hadn’t realized this was what Nadia had meant, would never have presumed in a thousand years.

“It’s only…” she sighs, a fallen curl blowing away from her lips. “I’m not practiced at this like you are, Nadia. What if it isn’t — ”

Softly tutting, Nadia moves the lead, the collar, out of Laurel’s hands and sets them aside. She brings those now empty hands to her lips and kisses them, dragging lips over knuckles slowly and deliberately in ways that make little chills erupt like fireworks at the top of Laurel’s spine, fizzling and crackling all the way down.

“You trust _me_ , don’t you?” Nadia asks, and waits for Laurel’s eyes to widen, for her lips to part and sigh out a quiet, _“Of course I do,”_ before continuing.

“Then trust me when I say that I wholeheartedly believe this to be something at which you will excel. I’m well aware of how much you enjoy the… _control_ our games provide. As do I.” Nadia laces their fingers together, stepping in close enough to trap their hands together between their chests. “However, I am also quite fond of allowing you the opportunity to learn new things. I believe that you, my tempestuous Laurel, will find that the thrill you respond so beautifully to when you are beneath me is felt equally, if not more so, from the other side.”

Laurel feels the tell-tale flush rise up in her cheeks, knowing that they are pink and turning pinker by the second. Pressed together so, Laurel is forced to tip her head back to catch Nadia’s gaze — glinting like precious garnets in the low light. “You really think so?” she asks, past a dry tongue.

“Yes, _Mistress,_ I do,” Nadia purrs, a sly grin overtaking her lips even as she presses a kiss to Laurel’s left cheek.

A nervous giggle bubbles up from Laurel’s chest, dancing across her lips. “Oh, I— I don’t know about all of that, Nadia.”

The kiss moves to her right cheek, breath from Nadia’s short huff puffing out along her temple. “ _Goddess_.”

“Oh, no!”

Lips curl against the center of Laurel’s forehead. “ _Countess?_ ”

Laurel snorts, laughs at the absurdity, half shoving Nadia away in playful retaliation. “Absolutely not.”

“Whyever not?” Nadia asks, doleful eyes innocent despite the very cat-who-got-the cream smile turning her lips half-moon sharp.

“That’s _your_ title, remember.”

“Also yours,” Nadia hums, grin never dropping. “You are my wife, after all.”

A leap in Laurel’s chest. Hearing it spoken aloud never seemed to get old. She cannot help but return the smile, demurring slightly as she searches the carpeted floor for answers it is not fit to give. All the while her face continues to pink, spilling its color down her throat to her chest.

“Must I have a title at all?” she asks, still reluctant but also intrigued. “You’ve never asked me to call you anything in bed.”

Firm hands settle at Laurel’s hips, thumbs rubbing comforting circles into her skin. “I respond only to appellations from sun rise to sun set, my love. When I am with you, I want only to be myself.” Her voice carries that tone, so earnest yet firm, so perfectly and specially Nadia that it makes Laurel’s knees weak, her heart flutter. Nadia hums, as if sensing Laurel’s rise. “However, though I may no longer require a title to remind me of my station any more than you do,” she winks, “for your first time this way especially, I feel it could help ground you in your role. To remind you where and who you are to me as we play out our scene. Does that make sense?”

Laurel draws a grounding breath. This wasn’t so different from learning at Nadia’s hand. Gentle explanations, easy to follow instructions. Almost like a new branch of magic, unexplored, stretching her skills in new ways, but ultimately still familiar. Innate. She nods slowly.

“It does. Thank you.”

Nadia’s grip tightens on Laurel’s hips, and she ducks her head to brush her nose along Laurel’s pulse point. “You’re very welcome. Mistress.”

This time when Nadia says it, a rolling current of pleasure slips through Laurel’s body and settles low in her stomach. Her mouth drops open, this time not in protest, but to let out the softest sigh — a noise of pure pleasure that startles her.

“Wh— what should I call you then?” Laurel asks. Her hands find Nadia’s and lay over them, squeezing lightly. “It seems only fair, doesn’t it? I can’t very well just call you ‘Nadia’ as I always do, right?”

Her wife pulls back almost sharply, though perhaps a better description would be surprise — excitement. There is light dancing in her eyes, an almost reckless joy. “Whatever you like,” she breathes, voice quiet in a way Laurel isn’t sure she’s heard on Nadia’s tongue before. Perhaps sensing Laurel’s immediate trepidation, feeling the tension that rolls beneath her skin still, Nadia glances askance at where she had laid the collar and leash until Laurel follows her gaze. “Though, I think _Pet_ might do nicely, given the circumstances. What do you think, Mistress?”

There it is again. That same heat, a low swoop in her belly. Mouth impossibly dry, Laurel disentangles herself from Nadia’s embrace and reaches to take the collar and chain in her hands once again. With a white knuckled grip, she unclasps the buckle keeping the loop of leather together and pulls it apart before looking back to Nadia and taking yet another deep, steeling breath.

“Lift your hair, Pet,” Laurel says before she can lose her nerve, as firm as she can manage despite the low tremor vibrating through the whole of her body.

And with a gentle, encouraging smile, Nadia obeys.

***

The air in the bath is warm, the water even more so as it trickles from between Laurel’s fingers, squeezed from the sponge she holds. It drips down the line of Nadia’s spine, little white rivulets of suds that slide down her sides like the stripes of a tiger, falling to the tile below where she kneels on hands and knees. Her posture is perfect, of course, her back flat and straight, knees a perfectly parallel shoulder width apart. She had taken the pose easily, as if it were as second nature as her morning stretches, when Laurel asked it of her. A simple, _“Kneel,_ ” was all it had taken, and a part of Laurel still roars with the power that had rushed through her at the sight, at the knowledge that Nadia was at her command.

She runs the sponge over her, smearing perfectly smooth brown skin with creamy bubbles. Laurel rubs in small concentric circles, touching her nowhere else, and with no skin whatsoever. It drives her mad when Nadia does this to her — those half touches that make Laurel ache and beg for skin to skin contact. Laurel only hopes it will have a similar effect on Nadia. The breadth of her knowledge truly stems only from the things she has seen Nadia do, the things that Nadia has done and said _to her_ , what Laurel herself enjoys the most. The bath had seemed an easy compromise, what with Nadia’s great love of relaxing there and Laurel’s great love of tending her. And being attended to. The place of which Laurel takes now.

“Does that feel good, Pet?” she asks, pitching her voice soft and crooning to bely the genuine question. Laurel slides the sponge down over the curve of Nadia’s pert ass and down one thigh, then back up to the other, avoiding the cleft of her ass and cunt entirely. 

Below her, Nadia sighs, a small groan that echoes against the tile with her head bent low. “Yes, Mistress.”

“Good. It’s only right that we get you scrubbed up, all nice and clean.” She smiles, finding shades of Nadia’s voice in her own. It is both intensely embarrassing and arousing all at once, a step to the left of the searing humiliation such words elicit in her when Nadia speaks them. The ones that always leave her panting and dripping for more. “That way no one will be able to deny how lovely you are.”

Another dip, a fresh gush of soapy water that this time Laurel does allow to run straight down the cleft of Nadia’s ass. She hears a faint, startled gasp and knows immediately that she wants to hear a noise like that again, and soon.

“Especially these holes. They get so dirty so fast, don’t they?” Laurel’s own words surprise her, or rather the confidence with which she says them. With her free hand she spreads the cheeks of Nadia’s ass wide and runs the sponge up and down her crack, making sure the material drags over the pucker of her hole. Nadia exhales sharply, her head jerking upwards, fingers clenching against slick tile. Half noiseless little pants drive Laurel’s need higher and higher, make her slow her pace and stroke with all the attention and delicacy she would put into her tongue until Nadia at last whimpers aloud. Only then does Laurel pull away, and with a quick rinsing dunk, flips the sponge over and tackles Nadia’s cunt with equal care, scrubbing until there is a mess of bubbles clinging to her bare lips and halfway down her thighs. Every time the sponge rolls over her clit, Nadia lets loose a broken little gasp that has Laurel cooing and breaking her own self imposed rule to stroke the small of Nadia’s back with her free hand. 

So unlike the noises she makes when she fucks Laurel. Even when Laurel licks her, touches her, Nadia is always — restrained is not the right word — but there is something about her that maintains almost perfect control over her own body down to every flex of muscle and gasp of pleasure. Like this, she seems almost to give herself over to the feeling, give herself to _Laurel_ completely — a heady thought. Her back arches into the touch, pushing her cunt eagerly into the brush of the sponge. The sight makes it difficult for Laurel to maintain her composure. So wanton Nadia looks, arching like a cat into its master’s touch.

Somehow, Laurel brings herself to pull away. To not reward such behavior.

“Greedy,” she murmurs, low in her throat, breathless with it. The instant it leaves her lips, Nadia seems to regain some sense of herself and straightens back into position immediately, only the faintest quiver in her arms.

“Forgive me, Mistress,” Nadia whispers in a voice quieter and more tremulous than Laurel even thought she could produce. Her chest _aches_ then, the stirring of her heart a wailing banshee of a thing, demanding to be listened to.

“Flip over,” Laurel commands and without pause Nadia follows, laying on her back with her legs bent and spread, her hands curled into loose, half fists on either side of her face — bared like a pup awaiting a belly rub. Immediately, Laurel is on her, straddling Nadia’s belly and pressing her soaked and scalding cunt to the bare flesh there. This time when Nadia’s eyes roll back, Laurel can see it. When her lips part in a sigh, Laurel can catch the pink flicker of tongue between them.

She abandons her sponge in favor of pressing bare, soapy hands to already damp skin, starting from where her own thighs bracket just beneath her ribcage and _up, up, up_ , to Nadia’s breasts. Laurel squeezes them, rolling the weight of them in her palms, loving the way the soap makes her flesh slick and pliable. It is like she’s never touched her before, somehow. The freedom in doing so, no worry about asking permission, no orders to keep her hands to herself. Laurel is free to kiss and fondle as much as she likes, to tease deliberately, and there is nothing that Nadia can do about it.

Minutes drag by of Laurel just thumbing over dusky nipples until they perk and crinkle, until Nadia begins to shake beneath her. She turns her head away from Laurel to whimper softly into the pile of her hair. _No, that won’t do_. Laurel drags her hands up breast bone and clavicle until her palms hover over either side of Nadia’s throat, fingertips fitted just under the edges of the collar she had placed there, with barely there pressure.

Panting, exhilarated, Laurel grinds her hips down against Nadia’s belly. “Look at me, Pet.”

Nadia turns back immediately, eyes glassy, the red of her iris nearly lost to the black swell of her pupil entirely. Heart in her throat, Laurel places her hands at either side of her head instead, and leans in to capture bite-swollen lips in a kiss. Even like this, with Laurel hovering over her like a predator and Nadia lost in some fuck-drunk haze, she still kisses with the same command as ever. The minute Laurel’s lips capture hers, Nadia’s tongue is pressing hungrily between them and into her mouth, sliding along Laurel’s, nothing at all demure or submissive about her.

Laurel lets herself melt into it for a moment, the thin veneer of control she keeps a tight handle on slipping away as she kisses — _is kissed_ , by her beloved. And then Nadia breaks away, leaving Laurel heavy lidded, mind addled, and smiles as if she knows exactly what she has done.

“Permission to speak, Mistress?” she asks, the low husk of her voice belying any and all innocence.

Laurel nods dumbly, still reeling from the kiss, her head five feet above her now floating on air. Nadia closes the scant gap between them, and brushes her lips along Laurel’s cheek, nuzzling against her, until they reach Laurel’s ear — as far as Laurel’s hands pinning Nadia’s hair will allow.

“You’re doing spectacularly, my love,” Nadia whispers, the edge of a smile in her voice. She kisses that delicate notch of Laurel’s ear and then settles back down to stare up at her adoringly. “What would you have me do next, Mistress?”

Blinking out of her stupor, Laurel can’t help but preen a little under the praise, glowing with warmth. She smiles down at her wife, grateful for the gentle nudge, the pull back to earth. Raising back up onto her knees, she shifts down to Nadia’s hips and offers her hand to help her sit up, bringing their foreheads together briefly.

“Into the tub with you, I think,” she murmurs, lips brushing the bridge of Nadia’s nose. Laurel’s arms wrap around slim shoulders, catching damp, soapy strands of Tyrian hair between her fingers and lifting them to the light. “I’m not done with you quite yet, and we’ve still got this mess of hair to wash, mm?”

That at least would be familiar. Her fingers in Nadia’s hair, working up a rich lather while her nails scratch gently at the scalp. It could almost be any other time, any other day, with Nadia lounging in the bath and Laurel kneeling behind her, dropping butterfly light kisses across her shoulders as she works. There is room for softness here, she knows. It will not break what they have built to be gentle.

She knows this. And yet… something new inside her cannot help herself.

Laurel gives the hair in her hand a light tug, something she would never _dare_ do otherwise but _oh…_ how worth it to see the way Nadia’s breath catches, the way her eyes go slightly crossed, then narrow in indignation before remembering the role she is meant to play. Yet another little reminder that _her_ Nadia is still in there. Again, Laurel tugs. Harder this time, a firm grip on her handful of pure silk. Nadia lets out a grunt, eyelids fluttering closed as Laurel tugs her head back and places a kiss on the underside of her chin, the front of her bared throat, then over the leather of the collar before she unclasps it and pulls it away, setting it aside for later.

Never releasing her hand in Nadia’s hair, Laurel stands and gives yet another tug, the harshest one yet. “Come on, Pet. Up! Don’t make me wait for you.”

She stands as gracefully as she can with Laurel’s grip hobbling her, bent slightly with her arms held behind her back. Laurel takes a few steps towards the tub, dragging her along, watching with held breath as Nadia’s bare feet stagger and stumble after her.

“Good girl,” Laurel hums, a lick of heat jumping like a candle flame within her. “Good girl, come on. In you go.”

Laurel takes a step down into the steaming water, and again Nadia follows her, pulled forward by the hand in her hair even as the curtain of it hangs around her body, ends of it already pooling on the surface and turning near black at the tips from the water. Laurel releases Nadia at last with an almost apologetic scratch to her scalp, beckoning her instead with a curl of her finger as she slips further into the pool. Nadia follows, looking like a siren of myth with her inky purple hair swirling around the water at her hips, treading a wake behind her until she comes to a stop just before Laurel.

“You look beautiful,” Laurel whispers, unable to help herself. She pets a damp hand once more through Nadia’s hair.

Nadia smiles, a light flush tinging her cheeks rosy. “Thank you, Mistress.” Then with an almost coy look, she bites at the corner of her lip and smiles. “Though, not yet as beautiful as I will be once you’re finished with me.”

This startles a laugh from laurel, eyes widening in surprise even as her entire body seems to catch and burn in a flash.

“Oh,” she breathes, cupping Nadia’s cheek in her palm. It feels warmer than even the water around them. “You know flattery will get you absolutely everywhere with me, my love.” And though there is no order to do so, Nadia comes into the circle of Laurel’s arms willingly.

***

“Remember to breathe, Pet.”

Nadia does not need the reminder, but Laurel gives it to her anyway, fingers dancing over the brocaded silk encasing her before taking the loose laces up in her hand and giving them a sharp yank. The corset around Nadia’s middle cinches in tighter, exaggerating her already perfect curves, and Nadia gives a quiet gasp in response. Laurel grins into her shoulder blade. 

It is hardly the first time Laurel had ever seen Nadia in such a thing, nor the first time she had ever helped lace her into one. It is the first time she had ever done so with Nadia otherwise completely nude before her, however, and the first time she had dared to lace it so tightly.

Laurel meets Nadia’s eyes in the mirror, chin tucked over her shoulder as her hands once more encircle her, stroking the flat plane of her stomach, the curve of her waist. The corset covers her from hipbone to waist, keeping her already perfect posture locked in place. Laurel’s fingertips brush those places above and below, where the boning digs just that little bit too harshly into the flesh there, and that displaced flesh in turn spills just that _little bit_ over.

“Stars above, you are so beautiful,” she murmurs, marveling at that skin’s softness, accenting the sweetness of her words with yet another tightening tug. The space between the lacings disappears entirely and Laurel deftly ties and tucks them with practiced movements. Her fingers once more return to Nadia’s waist, straining slightly to see if she could bring them together and let them touch. Beneath her palms, she can feel Nadia breathe — heavy, though only slightly from the strain of the corset. Her ample chest heaves and her lip slips between her teeth as she meets her own reflection in the mirror, then meets Laurel’s.

“Yes, Mistress,” she says with a slow blink, like a too-trusting cat.

Laurel grins. “So glad you agree. My pretty pet likes to be dressed up for show, doesn’t she?” 

Nadia’s eyes flutter. Normally, something of the sort would be far more suited to Laurel’s fantasy, but tapping into any long held, latent submissive tendencies Nadia held proved as easy as trying to squeeze blood from a turnip. Luckily, Nadia seemed to be adapting and enjoying herself well enough, willing and eager to let Laurel have her fun, to test and explore. At least that looked to be the case, if the telltale shine between her legs was any indication.

“Back onto your knees.” Laurel’s palm presses at Nadia’s shoulder and she slowly, gracefully, kneels under the pressure, her arms folded behind her back. Pleased, Laurel’s hand passes over the still damp hair at Nadia’s crown, freshly scrubbed within an inch of its life and then brushed and braided to be safely coiled at the back of her head. “Very good. I have a few more gifts for you, Pet. Do you want them?”

She sees Nadia’s eyes widen, then lift to her in the mirror. Her pretty lips part, then close again. Laurel can almost hear the gears turning in her head, her thoughts racing to think of what else Laurel could have planned. Laurel in turn drops a kiss to her head and hums lightly.

“Don’t think too hard, just answer.”

They’re words Nadia had had to speak to her many times, the both of them equally prone to overthinking, overanalyzing. At the command, Nadia’s shoulders lose a bit of their tension, and she lifts her gaze to fix Laurel with a relieved sort of smile.

“I would, Mistress. I would like your gifts very much, please.”

With a nod, Laurel leaves her side to the other corner of the room where their toy box lies. Innocuous, the gold and enamel blanket box could have housed any number of linens or mementos. The lock clicks open easily with the key that Laurel wears about her neck now, an odd feeling to have its weight in her hands — to pry open the lid without permission and dig within to find what she searches for.

Laurel grabs her few things, and perhaps a few more that she has yet to decide on using but cannot bear to leave behind, and shuts the chest once again. She carries her haul to the chaise, hiding the items from Nadia’s sight in the mirror with the bulk of her own turned body before spreading them across the cushion.

“Shut your eyes, please?” she asks, voice altogether too soft as she takes up the ampule of oil in one hand. Immediately, Laurel bites the inside of her cheek and clears her throat, attempting to regain some semblance of command in her tone. “I want to surprise you, Pet. Won’t that be good? You trust me, don’t you?”

A slow shift of Nadia’s shoulders, her chin lifting as she makes a show of slowly sliding her eyes closed — glanced sidelong at Laurel all the while with an almost mischievous curl to her lips. Laurel feels herself flush, grateful that Nadia cannot see how her cheeks still burn from just a single look. Laurel lifts the first of her gifts in one hand, careful to hold them that they make no noise as she comes close. Even with her eyes closed, Nadia’s head tracks her, just the slightest cock of her head in Laurel’s direction as she comes ‘round to the front of her.

Nadia must know what she has planned from the moment Laurel brings her lips to Nadia’s nipple and begins to suckle, to pull it to hardness with tongue and teeth. Her breath begins to shudder, her chest pressing into Laurel’s mouth, shifting as her body aches forward despite her posture. When at last Laurel glances up, she catches Nadia very quickly blink her eyes shut once again, as if hoping Laurel would not notice. Humming, Laurel begins toying with the other unattended to nipple, twisting and pinching it until it matches its sister and Nadia is once again quivering in place.

“I caught that,” she whispers, as if it were an observation as simple as the weather. With her free hand, and before she can lose her nerve entirely, Laurel slaps sharply across one breast, and then the other, each bouncing in the wake of the force, flushing dark and rosy as her cheeks. The gasp that rips from Nadia’s throat is loud, full of genuine surprise for the brief moment it takes to dissolve into a low, heavy groan. 

Laurel feels almost out of her own body, light headed with lust and vibrating from the sting in her own fingers. She had never struck anyone before, had never known that once she had she would want to do so again so badly. The innate desire to _hurt_ seems to ache in Laurel’s arm, make her body heavy, her belly burn. She swallows it all down with a shake, her voice far more level than she would have guessed herself capable of when she speaks again. 

“I said to keep your eyes shut, didn’t I? Disobey me deliberately again, and you’ll get far worse than a few smacks. Is that clear?” A part of her, too deep to put a name to, almost hopes that she will do it again, will force Laurel to make good on her threat. 

To Nadia’s credit, however, her eyes stay squeezed shut, brows drawn tight over her eyes in a fond little knot of concentration at the bridge of her nose. “Yes, Mistress. Forgive me, Mistress. It will not happen again.” Her lips twist into a frown, and Laurel reaches out a thumb and smoothes them over with a light tut.

“Don’t pout, Pet,” Laurel sighs, dragging her thumb down and pulling Nadia’s bottom lip with it. “I haven’t even given you your second gift yet.”

Luckily, perhaps a little surprisingly, Nadia’s nipples had not lost any of their stiffness in the interim. This makes it easy enough for Laurel to thumb open the maw of the first clamp in her hand and attach it deftly to the first victim.

Nadia’s choked noise rattles down Laurel’s spine, fizzing in her blood like sparkling wine. Too quickly, too eager to hear such a noise again, Laurel brings its twin to Nadia’s other nipple and lets the jagged teeth bite into the dusky flesh. Each clamp twinkles with a set of heavy sapphires, hand chosen by Nadia to suit Laurel’s own pale coloring. They look no less striking on Nadia, Laurel telling her so in a low voice as she once again gives each breast a gentle bounce to test the weight of them. Laurel knows their familiar bite well, knows how the weight of them drags, the dull, aching throb that will settle in and set course straight to Nadia’s cunt with every pulse of of her heart like a thread tied betwixt the two.

It makes her smile, not out of cruelty, but with the odd joy there is in knowing that the two of them would understand the same sensation — something new for them both to share. Already, Laurel feels herself thrumming with excitement, the urge to tell Nadia all about this feeling, to analyze and compare and discuss. In this moment, Laurel wants more than anything she has ever wanted in the world to guide Nadia through the pains and pleasures that Laurel knows so well and see her through the other side. That had been the whole point of this little exercise, hadn’t it? To teach, to guide, to learn. There is no bitterness in Laurel to admit that Nadia had been right, she _does_ love this; the power, the thrill, the sensation of sinking up within herself instead of down. She only hopes that Nadia does too.

“Gorgeous,” Laurel murmurs, giving the dangling clamps a last flick with her nail before standing. “How do they feel?”

Nadia takes a slow, deliberate breath before answering, tension still in her face. “Painful, Mistress.”

Frowning despite the twinge in her cunt at the blatant admission, Laurel cups Nadia’s cheek in her hand. Her skin is flush with heat and damp with sweat. “Too painful? Open your eyes and tell me your color, Nadia.”

“Green,” she replies almost immediately, before Laurel can even finish speaking, the word puffing along Laurel’s wrist. Her eyes slip open and Laurel sucks in a breath at the headiness of gaze that meets hers. “It has simply been a while. I’m fine, my love, I assure you. Carry on.”

Her eyes slip back shut without even the command to do so, and Laurel is forced to take no less than three deep breaths before she manages to settle herself. 

“Good. Good, all right.”

Her cunt throbs and burns, demanding attention, and it is a long moment before Laurel realizes that she needn’t ask permission to touch herself, to give herself some relief, that pleasure no longer at Nadia’s mercy — for the time being, anyway. Laurel’s own fingers reach between her legs with all the excitement of a child stealing sweets before supper, finding her clit impossibly hard and aching for a touch.

With a whimper, she steps backwards, cupping her hot sex with the palm of her hand. “H-hands and knees, again, Pet. Show me your ass, mm? That’s it, good girl.”

Nadia bends, chest dipped low enough to the ground that the dangling clamps barely brush the floor as they drag Nadia’s nipples downward. Her ass she gives in perfect presentation, the hand not playing between Laurel’s legs finding the globes of each cheek easily and squeezing them, patting them. Nadia’s skin is soft, supple from the warmth and oils of their bath. Laurel could touch her forever. Instead, she reaches once more for the ampule she had set aside and nearly forgotten.

“Are you ready for your next gift, Pet?” she asks, already thumbing the stopper free. Even with the oil poised and ready to be used, Laurel cannot help herself in taking the hand slick with her own arousal and dragging it between the cheeks of Nadia’s ass first, slicking her hole. A sharp intake of breath from Nadia is all the encouragement that Laurel needs. She drips the oil down to where her hand rests, slicking her fingers and smearing it with gentle circles. Setting the bottle aside, Laurel takes that hand to spread Nadia’s cheeks apart, giving her an unobscured view.  
“You always have such fun when you do this for me,” Laurel hums, leaning her cheek against the globe of Nadia’s ass. Her first finger presses in to the first knuckle, easy with the warm oil to guide it. The sound of Nadia’s slight whimper is intoxicating, enough so that Laurel presses deeper, her finger slipping in the rest of the way. Laurel marvels at the heat, mouth watering and cunt clenching between her shifting thighs. “I can see why. Gods above, you’re beautiful.”

Laurel drops a kiss to the skin where her cheek sits, just shy of where oil has spread across warm skin, making it glow like molten amber. Nadia pants beneath her, a fine tremor down her spine, only felt with Laurel’s face pressed against her so.

“Feel good?” Laurel asks her, giving an experimental thrust. It is so different from fucking Nadia’s cunt, the grip of her ass squeezing Laurel’s finger so much _more_ , tighter, all encompassing.

Laurel isn’t sure what she expects in response, but it surely wasn’t the breathless little _“Hhh-ah, ah-huh,”_ that seems to tear itself from Nadia’s throat. She trembles more forcefully now, a skittering smatter of gooseflesh across her lower back as her hips shift and Laurel’s finger presses deep inside her again. Laurel has never heard her quite so speechless, broken, not even in the throes of her own orgasm.

“It’s been _some time_ since anyone did this to you too, hasn’t it?” Laurel murmurs, tossing Nadia’s own words back at her, trying not to think too hard on any one person lest her jealousy get the better of her. She would prefer nothing ruin this, perfect moment that it is. “Good. It’s like you’re brand new again, hm? And all for me.”

All other feelings are easy to ignore when Nadia nods, head bouncing rapidly. “Good—” she breathes, as if in belated answer to Laurel’s first question and agreement to her last all at once. 

Laurel grins. “It’s going to feel even better once I fit that tail into you. Then won't you look perfect?” Her thrusts begin to move quicker, Nadia loosening around her finger incrementally with every one — until Laurel dares to push two inside. Nadia keens, head searching over her shoulder to watch Laurel, a glazed look in her ruby eyes that Laurel has never seen before. It makes her chest hot, her insides warm as melted chocolate.

“Oh, do you like that, Pet?” Again, her two fingers start slow, curling as she would to find the spot within Nadia’s cunt that would make her writhe, pressing apart slightly to ease the stretch. “We’re going to have to stretch you nice and wide, you know? All those toys you bought to use on me might not fit otherwise.”

A faint smile past the drunk slack of Nadia’s features. A third finger curls alongside when Laurel deems her ready for it, far longer than she likely _could_ have waited but enjoying the tease nonetheless. Nadia shudders in Laurel’s grip as she coos over the spread of Nadia’s hole and twists her wrist to elicit a lewd squelch of oil and sucking skin, giggling a bit in her sheer, heady delight.

Loathe as she is to pull out, Laurel has far too much still planned to linger here forever — much as she may want to. She loves the heat of Nadia’s insides around her fingers, loves every quiet and breathless moan that her thrusts push out of her. Would Nadia let her do this again, she wonders. Perhaps not _all_ of this, but the joy of fucking her, filling her, getting to hear her every whimper and cry and she falls apart, even beneath Laurel’s inexpert touches.

Her hand comes free of Nadia’s hole with a wet sound, the tight channel not at all wanting to release her. Sticky-handed, Laurel scrabbles across to the chaise and grabs for the plug she had set there, careful not to muss the silken fur that trails from its base. A warm, familiar brown, near perfectly matched to the hair on Laurel’s own head. It sends a small thrill through her, the memory of opening the luxuriously packaged gift, of seeing it dangle from her pale behind for the first time. 

She wishes they had had the time, the foresight to perhaps have one that would have matched Nadia. What a sight that would have been? Pretty Tyrian-dyed fur to hang between her legs, the image completely seamless, a pet truly fit for show. _Next time_ , Laurel thinks. If there ever would be a next time. Presumptuous of her, though a part of her thrills at the idea. 

Lining the heavy metal bulb up to Nadia’s lightly gaped hole, twitching with every breath Nadia takes, Laurel hums, smearing Nadia’s skin with oil and arousal both as her thumb drags comforting circles across the small of her back. “Are you ready, pet? It’s going in now, open wide for me.”

Nadia’s hole stretches easily, taking the sleek metal just as well as it had Laurel’s fingers. And Nadia… oh, her beautiful, perfect Nadia _keens_ , the thick swell of the plug stretching her to its widest point under Laurel’s firm press until it disappears inside of her entirely with a satisfying sound. The neck of the plug keeps her stretched still, thinner than the head but enough to keep the burn alive. Just the way Laurel liked it. Just what seems to drive Nadia absolutely mad.

Her back arches so prettily, rocking forward as if she could somehow escape the plug by pulling away. It was far too late for that, and by the low whine she gives, Nadia knows it too. 

“Shhh,” Laurel comforts her, rubbing the residual oil from her hands deep into the flesh of Nadia’s ass until she is radiant with it. “Doesn’t that feel good? Nice and cold inside to cool you off. You were so terribly _hot_ around my hand.”

Nadia whines out a noncommittal, _“Mmngh—”_

Would anyone ever believe that Nadia Satrinava, Countess of Vesuvia could be rendered so inarticulate? Would Laurel have, had she not been the one to cause it and sole human to bear witness? Riled by the thought, Laurel chuckles, continuing her half-hearted massage. “So big to fill you up just right, too. You can still feel the stretch, can’t you, Pet? Even though I opened you up so nicely.”

“Y— yes, Mistress,” comes Nadia’s strained reply.

With a low hum, Laurel stands. The inevitable pain in her knees from kneeling and crawling about a faint and distant buzz. She stretches, luxuriating in each pop and crackle of her back, arms pulled up to the ceiling in exaggerated effect. Nadia remains below her, still bowed downward, nipples dragged to the floor and newly plugged up ass pointed to the sky. Her final touch is the lead, coiled and near forgotten, glittering with the gold and gems that make up its length. Laurel clips it to the hook of the collar and leaves it to slither to the floor. Immediately, Nadia lifts her head, swiveling it to find her, to follow Laurel as she begins to back away. Those molten eyes track her, burning into the back of Laurel’s neck as she at last turns to their bed and begins grabbing for things, building herself a nest of hastily thrown together pillows on the floor at the foot of their tall bed.

Only when she is perfectly comfortable, half lounged in her pile of fluff and fur, does Laurel click her tongue like one would to call a dog to their side. “Come here, Pet.”

It takes a moment, a pause that stretches long enough for Laurel to wonder if she had perhaps pushed too far. A flair of panic has her sitting up, Nadia’s name caught in her throat, before a delicate bejeweled hand appears around the corner of the chaise. It is followed by another, slow, purposeful strides that bring her bowed head, at last, into view. Nadia lifts her chin as she rounds the turn, locking gazes with Laurel — a clash of opposites, brilliant red and stormy blue. An almost predatory smile curls across her lips as she creeps forward, _hand, knee, hand, knee_ , the sway of her hips, accentuated by the pressing curve of the corset, near mesmerizing.

Laurel’s skin pebbles with gooseflesh, a rolling shiver taking her from the top of her head to her curling toes. There is a memory here — a pile of pillows in a dim, incense scented menagerie. A beautiful creature stalking towards her, all roll of sleek muscle and grace. A collar and leash had marked the great cat then too, but Laurel had known, as she knows now, that such trappings mean nothing. The illusion of control. 

Pinned now in Nadia’s sights, that control slips away, Laurel’s breath quickening with every closed inch of space between them. She almost wonders, close to hoping, that Nadia will not stop, will crawl atop her and be done with their game, set to devour Laurel completely. Laurel need not worry, however. When Nadia reaches the perimeter of the blankets, she stops and settles back onto her heels, hands placed primly on her thighs with the leash and tail both curled around her folded legs. Nadia’s eyes never once leave Laurel’s face, glittering with mischief, irises still swollen with desire. She cocks her head, a single, dark brow rising in silent, ever curious question.

_What would Laurel do now?_

It was a good question. Pulled forward as if the lead were tugging her own neck, Laurel sits up from her lounge and lifts her hand, poised to touch Nadia’s cheek, and leaves it there to hover between them. A shift in Nadia’s gaze, canny and clever, her smile dropping only to drag the tip of her pink tongue along the seam of her lips. At last, Nadia’s eyes slip closed and she bunts her head into Laurel’s waiting hand, dragging her cheek along the length of Laurel’s palm like a cat marking its scent. She exhales against Laurel’s wrist, a quiet sigh of contentment.

“Good girl,” Laurel rasps, her fingers flexing around the shell of Nadia’s ear, scratching gently at the damp hair behind it. She shuffles closer, crowding into Nadia’s space. That hand trails lower, ghosting down the line of Nadia’s throat and over the leather of the collar to grip the lead and wrap its shimmering length around Laurel’s hand. When she tugs, Nadia gasps, eyes immediately flickering open, lips parted just wide enough for Laurel to slip her tongue between and kiss her deeply, slowly, licking at the backs of her teeth in her enthusiasm. She catches Nadia’s pillow-soft bottom lip between her teeth and begins to suckle.

Laurel pulls back only at Nadia’s soft whine, teeth dragging lightly as she lets go, leaving Nadia’s mouth bite swollen and glossy with spit. Cheek presses to cheek and Laurel sighs, casting her gaze about the room over her shoulder where Nadia cannot see. Empty space, her collection of little toys all used up. What would Nadia do in her place?

Again, Nadia makes a noise, quiet, impatient, right into Laurel’s ear. The warm flicker of tongue tickles along her lobe, and Laurel pulls back with a smirk.

“I’m sorry, Pet. Am I boring you?”

Nadia’s matching smirk twitches. “Certainly not, Mistress.”

 _”Certainly not,”_ Laurel mocks, kissing the apple of Nadia’s cheek. “Lying doesn’t become you, pretty.” A sigh. Laurel’s hand wanders lower and lower, swirling past Nadia’s pinched nipples and tapping each dangling trail of gems. Nadia’s sharp intake of breath is all the encouragement Laurel needs. “Is my pet in need of some more enrichment? Is that it?”

The brief distraction allows Laurel the chance to slip her fingers along Nadia’s belly, going unnoticed until her pointer finger curls into neatly trimmed Tyrian curls and tugs lightly. Nadia jumps as if struck, smile faltering in favor of going slack with a low moan. Her legs spread without Laurel even needing to ask, and Laurel takes the invitation to dip her hand between Nadia’s thighs where she is hot and wanting.

“You’re _drooling_ , Pet,” Laurel murmurs, Nadia’s slick coating her fingers almost immediately. The pad of her middle finger strokes along the hot seam of Nadia’s cunt, gathering all that dripping wetness and dragging it up to circle over her clit, already swollen and twitching under her touch.

Nadia’s hips jump, her breath hitching in her throat. She seems almost to hold that breath, then releases it with a slow shudder, eyelashes fluttering against cheekbones. With every light brush of Laurel’s fingers, Nadia’s hips follow, mimicking the tiny circles whether Nadia realizes it or not. Laurel thinks it’s precious, tells her so, breath hot against Nadia’s neck.

“So eager for my attention,” she croons. “Would you like to come, Pet? Is that what you want? Do you want to come all over my hand?”

“Y-yes,” Nadia grits out through clenched teeth. “Yes… Mistress. May I come?”

Laurel hems and haws, never ceasing her steady movements as she pretends to think it over. Nadia shudders and shivers in her palm almost constantly. She could not remember seeing her so ill-composed before, even in the throes of what Laurel had thought to be her peaks of passion. Sweat beads across Nadia’s chest, settling into the dips of her collarbones for Laurel to lap at like sweet morning dew in the cup of a flower.

“Earn it.”

Pulling her hand away is almost as painful for her as it is for Nadia. Almost. Nadia whines, _growls_ , a flex of her hand against her thigh as it curls into a fist telling Laurel of the fight within her to not simply grab hold of Laurel and force her hand back where she wants it. Her eyes slit open, panting. Had Nadia looked at her like that any other time, Laurel would have demurred, but now, heady with her new power, she simply smiles.

“How then,” Nadia starts, slowly, words measured between her breaths, “may I _earn_ my orgasm, Mistress.”

Already an idea forms, wicked in its intent. It burns low in Laurel’s belly, the audacity of it both frightening and thrilling. With her sticky-wet fingers, Laurel reaches for one of the pillows beneath her. The barb of a single feather, worked its way free from the down filling of a velvet throw cushion, catches against her pointer and she plucks at it until the silky white thing comes free between her fingertips.

No longer than her thumb, Laurel keeps it pinched between her nails, trailing the tip down the length of Nadia’s nose just to watch her features crinkle up and her eyes go slightly crossed in her effort to keep sight of it.

“You’re going to play with me, Pet,” Laurel says, settling the feather in the cup of her slick-damp hand. “Watch.”

Nadia does watch, and with rapt attention, as Laurel closes her fist around the light little thing. Her magic rushes through her, a surge in her veins as it jumps to follow her every whim. It curls into her palm, tingling and warm as it crackles under her skin. Laurel focuses on the lightness of the feather, floating, bouncing, whimsical — pours her intentions into it, mercurial and shifting. A golden glow builds between the cracks of her fingers, pulled through her body along the tether that keeps her connected, somewhere, distantly, to the realms beyond where anything is possible.

When she at last opens her fist, only mere seconds later, that glow swells and solidifies, dimming quickly like a setting sun, until all that sits in her hand is a simple white ball, shimmering still with magic as if dipped in starlight. 

She waves it before Nadia’s eyes, wide with both wonder and pride. “See the ball?” Laurel asks lightly. Snapping out of her daze, Nadia nods reluctantly, body already tensing with anticipation. Laurel’s smile widens. “Go fetch, baby.”

The ball leaves her hand and skitters, bouncing across the floor. Nadia stares with heavy lidded eyes for a moment longer, until Laurel feels a blush creep into her cheeks. She shrugs with her shoulders, almost bashful, breaking her grin to bite at her bottom lip. _Too far?_ she wonders, gaze flickering low and then up again, watching Nadia watch her with an almost appraising look before she finally settles back onto her hands and turns, ever so slowly, to crawl after the ball.

It hadn’t rolled far, just to the carved foot of the vanity table where it had stopped to wait. It’s far enough, though, for Laurel to get a good look at Nadia’s stalking steps, the sway of her new tail as it dangles from between the oil-slick cheeks of her ass, almost tickling the backs of her knees with its fluffy length. Laurel feels herself flood with new warmth between her legs, knows exactly how soaked just the sight of it makes her, likely staining the blanket below her.

Laurel makes a small sound, almost a whine, as Nadia turns her body purposefully to bend down and grip the ball between her teeth. The girth of it stretches her jaw wide, her lips spread lewdly around it. Nadia lifts her head high and proud, would practically be trotting back to Laurel if she could. She drops the ball at Laurel’s foot, a trail of spittle clinging between them that Nadia moves to immediately wipe away with a flash of disgust across her face. Laurel is quicker, catching her hand before she can drag it across her chin.

“Leave it,” she rasps with a lick of her own lips. Can Nadia feel the heat practically pouring off of her? Laurel’s touch lingers on Nadia’s wrist, her forearm as she releases her all too slowly. As she was commanded, Nadia doesn’t make to wipe the drool from her face again, only sets her hand back onto the floor and fixes Laurel with the intensity of that stare yet again. 

“Good girl.” Laurel lifts the ball and gives it yet another light, underhand toss. It goes wide this time, veering sideways. Nadia is after it without being told this time, still with those tantalizing movements. Oh yes, she knew exactly what this was doing to Laurel, and she was going to use every trick she had at her disposal to make sure that her _mistress_ would suffer for it. Again she takes the ball between her teeth, and again she brings it back. Yet more drool falls from her mouth as this time she drops the ball directly into Laurel’s lap, smearing her skin with the cool dampness she leaves behind. There is an almost smug look on her face as she settles back onto her heels.

Payback.

That was fair, Laurel thinks as she wipes the drool from her thighs with her fingers, and from her fingers onto the blanket with a small, bitten off noise — her own revulsion slipping through.

“Messy baby,” she chides, shaking her head, feigning a disappointment she does not truly feel. “If you wanted to get mommy all wet, you should have just said so.”

Unfolding her legs, Laurel leans back fully and lets them spread, showing Nadia just how wet she truly is. The air is cool against her cunt, sending shivers up her spine. Or perhaps it’s the way Nadia’s eyes immediately fall to her and fixate, dilate, the same look she gets when presented with an enticing new project, a puzzle she wants nothing more than to sink herself into — hawk-like and far too canny.

With a warning foot pressed to Nadia’s shoulder, Laurel sighs a quiet, “Ah-ah.” She grabs for the ball at her hip, passing it back and forth between her hands, her eyes meeting Nadia’s over the length of her body.

“You want to taste me, don’t you, Pet?”

Nadia nods, nostrils flaring. “Yes, Mistress.”

“How badly?”

Again, that flash of indignation before it slips away. “Very badly, Mistress.”

Laurel hums, a sharpness in her own eyes. “Badly enough to beg for it?”

“Yes, Mistress,” Nadia replies, voice tight.

“Well that doesn’t _sound_ much like begging.”

Again, their eyes meet. Nadia swallows, the bob of her throat making the lead dangling from it jingle softly. “Please,” she starts. “May I lick your cunt, Mistress?”

Sighing, Laurel settles back even further into the pillows, her shoulders shifting. “You can beg prettier than that, I know you can.” She taps a finger to her lips. “Maybe paws up would help? Sit pretty for me, hm?”

Laurel makes the motion with her own hands briefly, hands faced forward, curled over and brought up high onto her chest. Nadia’s chest rises and falls with a huff, but she straightens her posture and obediently pulls her hands up to mimic Laurel’s gesture. A rush of arousal sears through Laurel at the sight, her cunt no doubt twitching and leaking anew in full view of Nadia now.

“I would like to taste you, Mistress,” Nadia says, already a little breathier than she had been before. “Please? I know how enjoyable you find my mouth.”

A laugh. “Presumptuous,” Laurel muses. It isn’t. They both know how talented Nadia’s tongue is, that same tongue that licks pink past the seam of Nadia’s lips now in tempting display.

“Have I not been good enough for you, Mistress? I’ve heeded every order you’ve given. Please, let me do this for you.”

Even begging on her knees for pussy, Nadia is nothing if not herself. Noble, confident, proud. Fondness bubbles and boils in Laurel’s chest, and she cannot help it — she nods, crooking her finger. “Come on then. Ass up.”

Quick as a cobra strike, Nadia drops her posture and dives between Laurel’s legs. Her tongue immediately sweeps, wet and hot, from Laurel’s perineum all way to her clit, clearing away slick and swallowing it down before repeating the motion again. Laurel gasps, hips shunting forward into the touch. Nadia’s lips seal over Laurel’s swollen clit and begin to suckle, tongue flicking over her with ruthless precision.

Laurel curses, gripping behind her knees to pull her legs up. Better angle — something about it making the feeling of Nadia’s pulling, sucking tongue all the more intense. Laurel’s breath shudders in her lungs, pouring past her lips in a wobbly keen. Nadia knows exactly what to do with the presentation, and immediately moves to lap at Laurel’s slowly drooling hole, tongue spearing and pressing inside as her nose nuzzles against Laurel’s clit.

“That’s it—” she breathes, resisting the urge to throw back her head and shut her eyes with the pleasure of it. No, no she wants to see, wants to watch, must relish the sight of Nadia on her knees, curve of her corseted back sloping upwards to where Laurel can _just_ see the glint of silver peeking from between the cheeks of her ass.

“W— _mm, fuck—_ ” Laurel grunts. Nadia’s tongue curls into her, nose bunting and snuffling in the mess of Laurel’s slick. “W-wag your pretty tail for me, Pet. Show me how much you’re enjoying yourself.”

Never pausing her movements, Nadia’s hips begin to sway side to side, then in little circles. It moves the tail with each movement, the drag of it showing the silver a little more each time before Nadia’s greedy ass clenches and pulls it back in. A shudder rolls through Laurel, orgasm breaking across her like a rogue wave — powerful, unexpected, Nadia must feel the flutter around her tongue because she moves with practiced ease and seals her lips around Laurel’s clit once more to milk the orgasm from her as long as she can with all the determination of a kitten suckling at its mother’s teat, demanding the succor it provides. Laurel’s hips leap, bouncing almost petulantly as she is given no reprieve, is pulled further and further along the tight wire of her pleasure.

She breaks again, softer this time, a roll of distant thunder as opposed to the crashing hurricane force of the first. A sob wrenches from her chest, hands dropping her knees to tug at Nadia’s hair.

“Please, enough,” Laurel gasps. A familiar smile, wicked and wild, presses against the most sensitive part of her. Nadia’s tongue does not move, but changes to broad licks at either side of her aching clit. She would not stop, not until she was satiated, until Laurel was the writhing, whimpering mess beneath Nadia that she was meant to be — born to be. With every teasing lick, Nadia brings her closer and closer to that ledge, teetering on the welcoming brink of her own innate submission. How easy it would be to slip back into the role she belonged in. All Laurel had to do was fall.

But no— no, their game wasn’t up yet. Laurel was not done, was not ready yet to acquiesce this power she had been so lovingly granted. Her gasping voice turns low and rumbling, the fingers tickling along Nadia’s hairline pushing in to grip and _pull_ , harder than she had ever dared. It does the trick of jerking Nadia up and off of her, breaking the spell of her mouth, though Laurel continues to shiver and twitch. 

“I said, _enough_ , Pet,” Laurel growls, forcing herself to sit up, to drag Nadia up with her, until they are eye to eye. “Didn’t I warn you about being greedy?”

Nadia licks her shining lips in silent response, garnet eyes hazy but focused — on the hunt. She blinks, slow as a great cat, and a bit of that haze clears. In its place, Laurel expects irritation, perhaps even anger. All she sees, however, is pride: fierce and overwhelming. The approval, the silent praise for a job well done, rushes through Laurel and bolsters her. Proud. Nadia was proud of her. For what? For stopping her? For… for regaining control? Exerting it? For not giving in and losing herself to her own pleasure?

Laurel’s fingers clench, a silent test, and Nadia shivers beneath the grip on her hair, an almost rapturous smile curling at the corners of her lips. With a sigh, her eyes slip closed, the weight of her head pulling further at her hair — a move Laurel recognizes as one she herself employs often, aching for that dull sting across her scalp.

“Forgive me, _Mommy_ ,” Nadia all but purrs — the sound of it striking the chord of Laurel’s leftover arousal and sending a cascade of shivers down her back, pouring from the crown of her head down to her tailbone like a waterfall. 

Oh.

Where had— had Laurel— stars above, had she actually said that _aloud?_ When? She hadn’t even noticed, too lost in her own lusty haze. Of all things, of all the dark and wicked desires that crawl through her heart like weeds, why _that_ one? And why does it drop liquid heat straight into Laurel’s belly, stagger her with a swooping sensation that leaves her shaking? It should sound utterly out of place, terrible and absurd curled up in Nadia’s smoky voice, and yet— 

Her hand drops from Nadia’s hair, fingers trailing down the sharp jut of Nadia’s cheekbone. There is a knowing look to her, hot and heavy, pinning Laurel in place. Very suddenly, Laurel feels all too much like the mouse caught beneath the cat’s paw, breath growing tight in her chest with anticipation.

Nadia catches Laurel’s hand in a gentle nuzzle, dragging her lips across Laurel’s palm. A silent assurance, and one that Laurel appreciates, lets her grab hold of the tendrils of her hard won control and drag it back before they slip away completely.

“I forgive you, Pet. I do,” Laurel breathes, still cotton headed, words pouring from her mouth without even pausing to cross her mind first. Her movements are sluggish, moving to her trembling knees. Both hands cup Nadia’s cheeks, finding Laurel’s own slick sticky at the corners of Nadia’s mouth. She drags her palms down, down the column of throat, over collar and shoulders, across clavicle, and down between heavy breasts where the dangling jeweled clamps still hang from swollen nipples.

“But I can’t just let bad behavior go unpunished,” she continues, circling each areola with the edge of a dull nail. “How would you learn if I did?”

Like a kitten batting at a feathered toy, Laurel swats sharply and without warning at the clamp to her left. The teeth drag and release, and the whole thing falls to a sparkling clump in the blanket.

Nadia _screams_ , a full throated noise of surprise and pain — ragged, uncontrolled, her eyes blown wide. Laurel captures her bottom lip between her own, shushing her even as she fingertips trail lightly over the abused nipple. 

“Oh, they hurt even more when they come off, don’t they? Did you forget that too?”

Laurel interrupts Nadia’s panting to kiss her, properly this time, sweeping across tongue and teeth to catch the taste of herself there — usually only given as a treat, but hers to take as she sees fit now. Lips sealed together, tongues entangled, Laurel reaches between them and unclips the second clamp. Nadia's reaction is not quite so startled this time, only a growly little whimper that Laurel lets pour into her mouth, savored on her tongue like the finest, honeyed wine.

She pulls away from the kiss, cupping and kneading Nadia’s sore breasts as she does. The touch is gentle, but still undoubtedly torturous against the swollen throb she knows well that pulses there. Nadia continues to whimper, each little bitten off cry sparking along Laurel’s skin. Giving each nipple a final, cruel little pinch, she lets them hang free and untouched at last.

“Turn around and show me your ass, Pet. Face all the way to the floor this time.”

Something in the pleasure-pain makes Nadia limp, malleable. She follows her command with no complaint, not even one of her lingering, searing looks. Simply turns and presents herself to Laurel’s gaze as requested, cheek pressed to the carpet, hands flat above her head. Laurel sighs, contented, settled with her favorite view before her like a feast for the eyes. When Laurel lifts the length of silky tail up, Nadia’s cunt is glistening where it peeks out from between her thighs. Arousal turns the bare lips of her pussy glass-like with its shine. Even down to the tops of her thighs Laurel sees dampness, a private thrill of pride in herself sweeping through her.

It isn’t this that she focuses on, however. Not yet, anyway. Her hands let the tail fall back, bouncing with its faint heft against that slick, swollen flesh. Laurel’s hands find each firm globe of Nadia’s ass, kneading them the way she had just done with her breasts, slow and and almost gentle.

“You were very greedy, Pet. You didn’t stop, even when I told you you’d had _enough._ ” Laurel’s voice is low, quiet, barely above a whisper. She knows that Nadia hears her though, can feel the tensing of her muscles under her palms. Laurel smiles. “Do you know what happens to pets who misbehave, darling?”

A deep, shuddering breath. Nadia simply nods, and Laurel huffs a small laugh.

“Cat got your tongue suddenly, Pet?” Her thumbs press firmly, rolling in circles. “Go on — tell me what I’m about to do to you.”

“Greedy pets who misbehave are punished,” Nadia groans, half muffled in the carpeting. They’re words she herself taught Laurel long ago, and they sound so different from her now than they did then, when Laurel was the one meant to parrot them back as she too waited for her own delicious punishment.

“That’s right. Don’t worry, I’ll go easy, I promise.”

The crack as Laurel brings both of her hands down at the same time across Nadia’s ass is deafening. The palms and fingers of Laurel’s hands tingle, stinging and turning pink as the handprints she left behind like stains of paint. Before it can fade, Laurel rears back for her second strike, and makes contact. This time she lingers, letting the heat seep into her and up her arms, hands petting over the marks she leaves behind.

Nadia’s breath hisses and shudders in and out through her nose, her mouth bitten into a thin line between her teeth. Her pretty eyes are scrunched shut, and a deep crease of pain, or concentration, or both runs the length of her brow. Reaching past her back, Laurel thumbs at the corner of her mouth until those full lips pop free — bite swollen. She does not want her drawing blood in her mouth, after all. She winks when one of Nadia’s eyes cracks open to watch her.

“Aren’t you going to thank me for correcting your behavior?” she asks, teasing smile back in her voice though her face remains comically stern. “You’re not ungrateful, are you, Pet?”

“No,” comes the almost slurred response. That single slit eye slips closed again.

“Then what do we say?”

Nadia draws in another one of those deep, shuddery breaths through her nose. “Thank you, Mommy.”

Again. An arrow striking Laurel with precision, quivering in the bullseye of her heart. It leaks wretched heat down to her cunt, dampness against her own heels where she drips. Hand trembling as it pulls away, Laurel pets over the lacing along Nadia’s spine, grounding herself with the texture of it.

“Good,” she replies roughly, strained. Her hands rub together a second before smacking down again, harder than her previous two. She waits only for Nadia’s next _‘thank you’_ , sans that word, thank the gods, before the fourth strike hits, and again for the fifth.

When Laurel is finished, after she receives her last bitten off grunt of thanks but before the sting on either of their skin can fade, she flips the tail up and away and pushes two of her stinging fingers deep into Nadia’s cunt.

Nadia’s reaction is immediate and surprising. She jolts as if struck by lightning, a bright gasp tearing from her throat, body going taut as a bowstring. Her hands scrabble, clutching at the pile of the rug like a lifeline. Laurel pumps her fingers in and out _once, twice, three times,_ then pulls them out. A gossamer thin strand of arousal follows her fingers, breaking only when Laurel curls her wrist to admire the shine on her fingers and push the cooling slick back inside with three fingers this time.

“You did so good, Pet. My good girl,” Laurel pants, the drive of her arm rocking Nadia’s body back and forth with the force of her thrusts. Eager and desperate, Nadia’s hips press back against her every time on the push in, driving her deeper, rolling for the perfect angle.

“Thank you,” Nadia gasps again, then again, and again, as if they are the only words she can remember to say. Laurel’s fingers curl down, reaching for the spot within her — though at a different angle than she is used to — at the same time her other hand comes to play as well, rubbing over Nadia’s clit.

The touch is sloppy, indelicate, the angle odd and unpracticed, but Nadia doesn’t seem to mind. She keens, clenching around Laurel’s fingers hard enough to bruise, to grind the delicate bones of Laurel’s knuckles together. Nadia’s cunt is velvet covered steel, hot inside, tight, and wet — so, so fucking wet. Sweat breaks out along the line of Laurel’s hairline as she works, beading down the small of her back. On impulse, she bends close and drops a kiss to the still pinked handprint across Nadia’s left ass cheek and Nadia sobs beneath her.

“Please,” Nadia whimpers, unbidden, startling Laurel into slowing her motions, pace stuttering. This only earns Laurel another noise of pure desperation, yet another the like of which she had never heard from Nadia before. Of course she had heard her breathless, of course she had heard her wanton and eager before, but never quite like this — an edge to it that sends a shiver across Laurel’s body, her chest seizing as her heart leaps into her throat.

“Please, what?” she asks, almost trance like. Laurel leans in close again, fluttering her fingertips inside and spreading them as wide as she can. She watches as gooseflesh pebbles down the backs of Nadia’s thighs, every fine hair on her body standing at attention.

Nadia groans, yet again rolling her hips, body _begging_ to be fucked. “Please,” she says again, adding to the chorus. “Let— want to come. Please, please, may I come? Please?”

Laurel feels her throat tighten, finds herself nodding even knowing that Nadia cannot see her. “Yes,” she rasps, even as she pulls her fingers completely free of Nadia’s heat. Gripping for the lead cast off to the side, Laurel winds it tight around her fist, tiny diamonds biting into her flesh as she pulls roughly at Nadia’s throat, dragging her heavy and recalcitrant body upwards to wrap herself around.

Lips at the top of Nadia’s spine, Laurel’s hands wind around to the front of her this time, down through sodden Tyrian curls, slipping back inside of her with a curl of fingers. Panting, Nadia presses back against her, head falling to Laurel’s shoulder, baring the long column of her throat to Laurel’s lips and teeth, tendrils of long hair fallen and sticking to her nape.

“You’ve earned it,” Laurel whispers, lips ghosting the shell of Nadia’s ear. Her blood pounds, a roar that drowns out every other thought except this. Her. Laurel’s world expanding and contracting around one single point of light — Nadia. Only Nadia. “Come on, come for me, Nadia. My good girl, that’s it. Mommy’s got you.”

A growling whimper, pitched high in Nadia’s throat. Nadia’s body tightens, muscles in her abdomen flexing even beneath the thick fabric of her corset. Her breaths become shallow, quick and staccato, following the pump of Laurel’s fingers, the grind of the heel of her palm against Nadia’s clit. With one last great, shuddering gasp, Nadia stills and then finally — _finally_ — _snaps_. 

Her body turns to a riot as she begins to unravel, keening with a ferocity wild enough to shake the windows in their panes. Laurel clings to her as her body batters itself against her, caught in the tsurus of her own pleasure. Her cunt pulses, fluttering wildly around Laurel’s fingers, now pinned in place and unable to move. The hand at Nadia’s stomach smooths lower, pressing, finding her clit trapped beneath Laurel’s opposite and strokes her, guiding her through the rest of her orgasm and selfishly milking her for all she is able to give.

The rhythm of calming and tensing muscles follows, rolling aftershocks that dance down every limb to jerk her like a marionette with Laurel the one pulling her strings. At long last, minutes counting by that Laurel cannot know for sure, but can feel, Nadia’s climax goes quiet, voice softening to nothing but quiet little mewls. A hand grips at one of Laurel’s wrists, stronger than she would have expected for the loose state of the rest of her.

“Mercy!” she gasps, nails digging into Laurel’s wrist. Immediately, Laurel stills her hands under that grip, at the command of their watch word, and Nadia lets out a sigh, sinking further somehow into Laurel’s chest.

“Nadia?” Laurel whispers tentatively, nose pressed to sweat soaked temple. A moment of deep breathing, of Nadia’s eyes staying fixed shut, and then, as if coming out of a trance, her lids flutter open with a sweep of long, dark lashes.

“My sweet Laurel,” she breathes in reply, and just like that, that spell is broken. Something shifts in Laurel’s chest — a weight that, though not uncomfortable, had settled there and made a home for itself. It slips away, dissolving under that wash of Nadia’s voice calling her true name once more.

Carefully, Laurel moves her hands away, first the one over Nadia’s clit and then the one still buried inside her. Nadia sighs and squirms as Laurel attempts to tug her fingers free, huffing a quiet laugh into the curve of Nadia’s throat as she does.

“It’s like you don’t want to give me up,” she says, coming free at last with a lewd sound that sends a shiver down her spine.

Nadia hums, a rumbling purr that starts deep in her chest. Her hips roll, now free, ass pressing against Laurel in a way that feels quite deliberate in spite of the call to stop. “If you knew the pleasure of your hands as I do, you would hardly see fit to blame me.”

A faint flush turns Laurel’s cheeks warm, grateful that she sits behind Nadia so as not to show the effect such a statement has on her so plainly. All the filth that had dripped from her own mouth just minutes before, and now so simple, yet endearing, a compliment is enough to have her blushing like a maiden again. Laurel marvels at herself, exasperation in the slight shake of her head.

“So… it was good, then?” she asks, damp fingers trailing upwards to swirl along the curving floral brocade. “You liked it?”

“ _Liked it?_ ” Nadia’s laugh is not unkind. Graceful as curling smoke, she turns in Laurel’s hold so that they face one another once more. Nadia’s hand comes up to cup Laurel’s cheek, thumb sweeping across the corner of her mouth, just over Laurel’s beauty mark, where Nadia so loved to kiss. There is still a light tremor to her hand, but her voice is steady. “You were a wonder, Laurel. Exactly as I knew you would be, and more so.”

Laurel covers that hand with her own, pressing cool skin to her warm cheek, and kisses Nadia’s wrist. “Good, I— I’m glad.” Her gaze drops demurely, then returns to search Nadia’s face. She lingers on the collar and lead, lifting her other hand to hook a single finger into the ring.

“May I?” she asks, earning her a soft smile from her wife.

“Of course.”

With a wordless nod, Laurel leans in and begins unclasping the collar from around Nadia’s throat, peeling away sweat damp leather. It falls from her fingers to the floor, her lips finding that untouched skin and kissing at it like a woman starved. Nadia’s hands rest lightly on Laurel’s shoulders, fingers clenching only when Laurel licks or nips over a particularly sensitive spot. Crowding into Nadia’s space, Laurel wraps her arms around her back to begin plucking at the ties holding the corset together. The silk ribbon slips freely against itself, loosening under Laurel’s practiced motions until she can sit back and unclasp the busk.

Nadia does not sag or slump, she never truly does, but Laurel hears and feels her take a deep and appreciative breath, the set of her shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. Laurel’s hands wander over the divots left behind in her skin — none so terrible or painful looking, but heavily pronounced. A memory takes her, of this same skin under her same hands, tracing lines left by costume corsetry for the very first time, the thrill of being able to touch Nadia and be touched truly at last burning like bright fire in her chest and leaving an indelible brand on her soul. And now here they are again, another first.

“You’re smiling,” Nadia says softly. Her knuckle catches Laurel’s chin and lifts her head up to meet in a gentle kiss. “I hope that you as well enjoyed yourself? You certainly seemed to.”

There is a teasing note in her tone, but a seeking look in her eyes when Laurel pulls back. Her heart gives a painful thud in her chest, the drive to look away strong, but she pushes past it. 

“I did, it was — exhilarating. Overwhelming at times, but good. Really good. And you were —” Laurel’s hands stroke absently up and along the cage of Nadia’s ribs. “You were so beautiful. And good. All I wanted to do forever was tease you, hear you beg for me, give you everything you wanted and… and even more of what you didn’t.”

Laurel bites her lip, nerves practically simmering under her skin. Had she said too much? Even those simple statements feel large, uncomfortable in her mouth. They are important though. Nadia asked, and so she would answer, even if it meant baring her soul in this newly vulnerable way. Whatever she meant to expect, when Laurel chances a look back up at Nadia, she finds on her face only the comfort of her smile, sunlight bright, warming as a balm on her soul.

“I knew you would be a natural,” Nadia says, quiet but sure. Her thumb traces over Laurel’s bottom lip and pulls it free of her teeth. “As always, you take whatever expectations I have of you and leave them in your proverbial dust.”

“It felt good,” Laurel finds herself reiterating, preening slightly under Nadia’s praise. She cannot help it, and Nadia knows that just as well. “Different, but... the same, at its core. I still wanted to make you happy, to make you feel good. For you to — to want me. I still had a purpose to you, I was still—” The admission makes her feel almost shy, silly, but Nadia does not judge. She only watches her softly and with patience. “I was still yours.”

Laurel sighs, and presses her forehead to Nadia’s. “Is that what you meant in the beginning? That the control goes both ways?”

“Indeed,” Naida says. Both of her hands curl into Laurel’s hair and begin raking fingers through, teasing waves and curls apart from sweaty tangles with practiced motions. Her lips brush the bridge of Laurel’s nose, close and tickling enough that it makes Laurel squinch her eyes shut.

She continues. “Some are selfish with their command, want to belittle their submissives and break them down, only to build them back up in their own image. Some even find this pleasurable. I knew you would not be such a type. My darling Laurel, so earnest, so eager to please.” Manicured nails scratch gentle against Laurel’s scalp now, slow waves of pleasure-chills skittering down her spine. “And yet with such a spark in your heart. One needed only give it the chance to catch, rather than smother it, and lo — watch it burst into a blazing spectacular. Who knew there was such a wicked and teasing little minx hidden within you so, just waiting to be set free?”

“Apparently _you_ did,” Laurel huffs, laughing past the tightness in her throat.

Close as she is, Nadia’s features all blur together unless she fixes on just one in particular — the curving half-moon of her smile. “Years of practice.”

Laurel kisses her again, a firm press of lips that quickly leads to her tongue skipping along the seam of Nadia’s mouth to beg entrance. She still tastes of Laurel’s own cunt, a realization that burns low in her belly and makes her fingers clench desperately at Nadia’s hip. They kiss almost lazily now, slow slides of tongue to make up for the impassioned and desperate meetings their mouths had made earlier. Nadia’s teeth catch and tug on Laurel’s lower lip and draw a gasp, which in turn earns her a small smile.

“Not fair,” Laurel murmurs, eyes half shut in bliss and with absolutely no heat at all behind her words.

Nadia only hums, also with very little care. “Why should that stop me?” she asks coyly, dragging lips down Laurel’s throat.

She swallows against that kiss, and then the light press of teeth. “Still— _ah_ — still got a tail in your ass, for one.”

Surprisingly, Nadia does pull back at that, a rosy flush to her cheeks. She shifts on her knees and groans slightly, as if suddenly remembering, by Laurel’s words only, that the plug was still there and filling her up.

“I mean, I could leave it in if you like. It does look awfully pretty in you,” Laurel finds herself teasing. The grasping fingers at Nadia’s hip grow almost tickling, slipping lower over the globe of her ass. A hint of wickedness tugs at Laurel’s mouth as she watches Nadia’s flush deepen across her nose and stretch back to her ears.

A delicate little cough. “Perhaps some _other_ time,” Nadia replies. This does not, however, stop Laurel’s wandering hands from cupping Nadia by the rump and pulling her up onto her knees. Her chin tucks safely over Nadia’s shoulder, the perfect vantage by which to watch her hands reach between Nadia’s oil-slicked cheeks and grip the base of the plug. It's all too easy to toy in and out of her a few times, those familiar nails digging, without mercy, into Laurel’s sides to make her hiss in tandem with Nadia as the plug finally slips free with a lewd _pop._

"Better?" Laurel asks, no longer teasing. The tail tumbles with a thump to the floor. Her lips press into the junction of neck and shoulder, drag over the thudding pulse she finds sitting just higher. It tickles against her lips, hummingbird quick beneath thin skin. Nadia nods against her, body giving a belated shudder against Laurel's chest. Her arms wind tight around Laurel’s waist, clutching her close, nose buried in Laurel’s hair. 

Laurel skims flat palms up Nadia's back, tacky with sweat. “Let me finish taking care of you, Nadia,” she whispers, a small half-smile on her face. “Then you can do with me what you will. I promise.”

Nadia shakes in her arms, quiet laughter that Laurel feels more than hears, warm breath puffed against her nape. “How benevolent of you to offer.”

Laurel pulls her away with a gentle hand at the back of her head. With gentle movements, she draws them both up and urges Nadia towards the bed. If only she were strong enough to carry her as Nadia did for her at times. The safety and closeness inherent in being cradled in someone’s arms. Laurel cannot imagine Nadia curled against her so, but the thought dogs after her with every step they make, feet stepping in and out of time like a dance so that they might move without ever truly disentangling themselves from the other. Leaving Nadia settled at the edge of the bed, Laurel leans in to kiss her one last time. 

“You’ll be all right?” Laurel asks. “I’ll only be gone a moment.”

“I will be fine,” Nadia answers. She touches Laurel’s jaw, fingertips trailing the curve of it as she pulls away. The touch lingers on Laurel like a brand, even as she nods and hurries quickly to the bath to wet a cool cloth.

When she returns, scant seconds later, near breathless from hurrying back, she finds Nadia has made herself quite comfortable. Sprawled back against their pillows, she lies resplendent as a queen, eyes closed in peaceful repose. Only when Laurel’s footsteps draw close does the mask of feigned sleep crack. Nadia is smiling at her, beatific and glowing, warm sunlight spilling from her every pore.

Laurel feels almost unworthy, though she knows if she were to voice such a thing Nadia would lose that smile immediately. She couldn’t have that. With all the tenderness in her body, Laurel lifts Nadia’s hand from the coverlet and kisses her knuckles before beginning the meticulous task of cleaning sweat, oil, and arousal from Nadia’s skin. 

Once again, she finds that this isn’t so different. This doting, the service. It sets Laurel’s soul alight, a kindling brightness in her chest like a star that makes her feel lighter than air. Magic pours into her palms to keep the rag cool but not cold, pulling the moisture from the air so that it never goes dry but does not make a mess of the sheets below. 

“You truly do love this, don’t you?” she hears Nadia ask, the cloth swiping along her belly. Laurel looks up from her work with a quiet sound, brows drawing together in confusion.

Nadia touches her arm, or rather, the space just above, fingers dancing in something invisible just shy of the downy hairs there. “I can feel you,” Nadia says on a groan, and Laurel realizes just what she means with a gentle rush of gooseflesh. “Your pleasure tastes like springtime honey on my tongue.”

After a moment of swallowing dry around her too-fat tongue, Laurel manages a simple, “Ah — sorry.”

Pulling her aura in tight around her, she frowns and flushes all at once. She had not realized that she was projecting, letting her emotions leak out alongside her magic. It is something that does not happen unoften, especially in the afterglow of a particularly trying scene, though it always seems to take her by surprise when it does. Nadia would normally have kept herself guarded, would never have noticed the push of Laurel’s feelings against her. Perhaps tonight had left them both more affected than they realized.

“Do not be shy with me, dear Laurel,” Nadia says, voice calm and even. “It was not my intent to shame you. I enjoyed it.” Her touch lays firm against Laurel’s shoulder now, and Laurel instinctively turns to kiss the top of it. 

Laurel’s returning smile remains a little tight at the edges. “And this? Did you enjoy _this_? I know it was hardly anything like what you’re used to.”

She gestures with the hand not currently occupied with wiping mixed oil and arousal from Nadia’s skin, careful not to touch too roughly at her sex. Nadia’s hips give a lazy roll, both assistance and encouragement, a quiet sigh slipping from her lips.

“You would be surprised,” Nadia says, head rolling to the side to rest against the silk of her pillows. Her eyes flicker over Laurel, up and down, even past barely slit lids. “As you said, it is different, and yet… I still found myself very aware of how my actions guided you. Encouraged you. A prop for you, if you found yourself faltering.”

Fondness floods Laurel, rising up in her like a pot set to boil over. She nods, ducking her head. The wash cloth, its job now done, sits in Laurel’s lap to be fiddled with, fingers plucking at the terry.

“I’m glad, I just — it was very generous of you to let me, I wanted it to be good for you. _I_ wanted to be good for you, like you are for me.”

“You are always good, my sweet Laurel.” She speaks almost before Laurel is done herself, half sitting up to reach for Laurel’s busy hands and pull them from the cloth into her own, to draw her up the bed to kneel at her side. Her hand finds Laurel’s thigh, her hip, gazing up at her from her place on the pillow. She grins, her expression shifting just slightly, dipping out of the realm of earnest and into something almost sinister. “Such a wonderful little Mommy.”

“Oh gods,” Laurel groans. She had almost forgotten, had hoped that Nadia would have the grace, the kindness to do so as well. No such luck, it seems. Already, heat is pooling in Laurel’s cheeks and chest, turning her bright scarlet in a manner of seconds. Her hand comes up to cover her eyes, but Nadia is too quick and pulls her hand away, pinning it down to her side with its partner so that Laurel cannot hide, has no choice but to submit herself to Nadia’s wicked smile — now fixed back in place, ruby eyes glittering with mischief.

Laurel pouts, attempting to make herself look as pathetic as possible. “Please can we just... forget that I ever said such a thing?”

Rising up from her throne of pillows, Nadia leans in close and kisses the corner of Laurel’s mouth, pressing her smile into the skin here.

“No,” she says, saccharine sweet, nose brushing Laurel’s cheek as she slowly shakes her head. Laurel groans. Her blush deepens, a hot swoop in her belly as embarrassment sears through her like a wildfire, and Nadia laughs — _laughs! —_ head tossed back in genuine delight.

“Don’t be mean to me, Nadia,” Laurel whines, squirming under her still pinning grip. “I don’t even know where that came from.”

“Oh, it came from deep within you, darling. Trust me —” Nadia’s lips trail lower, down Laurel’s jaw to her throat. Her head tilts back to give her access without thinking, shivering as teeth graze taut skin. “I was only glad to see you come into your own in such a beautiful way. I knew that you would, and what a joy it was to experience.”

Pressing firmly, Nadia guides Laurel down to the pillows until she is the one gazing down at Laurel, trapping her within the cage of her strong arms. Now this, this feels correct. She feels back in place now, able to look up and have her entire universe above be found, once again, in Nadia’s face, in the depths of her eyes like precious jewels.

“If you say so,” she murmurs, one last valiant attempt to brush off the humiliation that burns in her belly, and yet at the same time stokes at the coals of her own, latent desire.

Nadia lowers herself to her elbows, bringing their bodies flush together from chest to hip. “I do, in fact, say so,” she says, imperious and no nonsense.

“Mm—”

“That _being_ said,” Nadia continues, resuming the path of her lips along Laurel’s throat, dropping kisses and suckling marks across her pale skin until Laurel is panting and shifting restlessly beneath the weight of her. “Much as I did enjoy giving myself over to you, I believe I still far prefer you this way. Do you agree?”

Her chin rests against Laurel’s breastbone, head tilted and waiting for Laurel to blink down at her through hazy eyes and give a reedy whine. Nadia’s head tilts the other way, blinking at her expectantly, and Laurel swallows, throat growing tight.

“Y-yes, Nadia,” she whimpers, the words coming to her as easily as breathing.

Raising her head to kiss the place her chin had pressed, Nadia coos wordlessly at her. So chaste, so sweet, and yet every nerve in Laurel’s body flickers to life all at once as if called to attention by some unknown magic.

No longer a pet, but a wolf, Nadia licks her lips and bares her teeth. 

“Good girl.”

**Author's Note:**

> come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://queenofeden.tumblr.com) or [ twitter](https://twitter.com/queenofeden)


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